


The Ritual

by AvengersCompound (emilyevanston)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Facial Shaving, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Shaving, Shaving Kink, Showers, Smut, Star Spangled Bingo, Straight Razors, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyevanston/pseuds/AvengersCompound
Summary: When Steve gets home from a mission, he has a ritual to help him feel more like himself.  The two of you get a little more out of it than just him getting clean.Square filled:@star-spangled-bingo - Shaving Kink
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 139
Collections: Star Spangled Bingo 2020





	The Ritual

The sound of the door opening startled you. You hadn’t expected Steve home so soon and as he came through the door you jumped up and ran to him, throwing yourself into his arms. He let out a soft huff as you crashed into him and laughed softly as he closed his arms around you.

“You know,” he said as he lifted you off your feet and carried you inside. “If you make coming home so good, I’ll just end up going away a lot more regularly.”

“No, that’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you said, nuzzling at his neck.

He was a little worse for wear. Not beaten up exactly. He’d come home in pretty bad shape on occasion. Bruised or broken ribs were a pretty common injury. As were gashes that required a few stitches. Often on his head. More than once you’d been called into the medbay because he’d been knocked unconscious. So for Steve, it wasn’t so bad. Mostly he was dirty and he looked exhausted. You assumed he probably hadn’t slept or showered much or even at all since he left. He had at least a week’s worth of beard grow in. Not really enough to say it was a beard, but it was more than just a shadow of facial hair.

He set you back down on your feet and leaned in and kissed you deeply. His scruff scratched your skin making your lips tingle and feel a little numb. He had that pungent caustic smell of sweat and dirt and you pulled back and wrinkled your nose.

“Honey…” you hummed, running your hands down his sweat-stained compression shirt.

He knew what you wanted right away. Not that it was going to be an unreasonable request. This little almost-ritual you’d developed had started because it was always the first thing he wanted to do when he got home and you had just injected yourself into it.

He chuckled and turned you around. “Yes, you can. I’ll shower first though,” he said. “You go get the towel and chair while I’m in there.”

You clapped your hands and skipped off to the kitchen to boil some water. By the time you’d steamed a towel, dragged a chair into the bathroom and set up everything, Steve was stepping out of the shower.

The room was full of steam because Steve always showered hot, and he dripped water on the floor as he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. It sat low on his narrow hips so that the defined lines of his Adonis’ belt drew your eyes down, leaving only your memory of what was under the white cotton.

He drew you close to him as he still dripped with water and left a wet handprint in the middle of your back to balance the entirety of the front of your clothes as he pressed you against his unyielding form.

“You smell good,” you hummed as you breathed him in. It was soap and sandalwood and salt. He kissed your neck just under your ear and grazed his teeth over your skin.

“You taste good,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Steve,” you moaned his name like it was the lyric of a song and pushed him back towards the chair. “Not yet.”

Steve sat and looked up at you and you grabbed the hot towel and wrapped it around his face. He hummed and leaned his head back, his muscles visibly relaxing.

You pulled your straight razor and began stropping it along the leather strap you’d attached to the chair.

Steve liked a clean shave. He always had and despite how much you might like the feel of his facial hair against the soft skin on the insides of your thighs, he hated growing it in. When you met him he always shaved with the shitty disposable razors you could buy at gas stations and dollar stores - ten to a pack. You would sit on the vanity and watch as it methodically removed any trace of hair from his face trying to reason with him that he could maybe let it grow in a little.

There was something about watching the razor slide over his skin though. The deadly sharp blade dragging over such exposed areas, again and again, was sexual in its own way. One day you’d asked if he’d let you do it and he’d agreed. And despite the fact, you’d nicked him in four different spots and you’d run the razor in the wrong direction he seemed to quite enjoy it.

You’d really enjoyed it. The intimacy of it. The trust involved. The sound of the blades cutting the hair. Even the smell of the shaving cream. It had this strange level of eroticism you had not expected and after you’d wiped the last of the cream from his face, you’d ended up fucking him right there on the bathroom counter.

After that, you’d gotten really into shaving. You’d looked up tutorials and bought books about it. You’d invested in equipment. And if using one of the cheap plastic razors had turned you on it was nothing compared to how it felt to use a straight razor.

You put the blade back in its holster and unwrapped the towel on Steve’s face. He looked up at you with a sleepy content expression and you grabbed your cup of shaving cream and the brush and began applying the cream to his face. It had a strong astringent scent, but there was an undertone of lemon and cedar to it too.

When there was a thick lather on his face you took out the razor and began to shave. You started with the tricky little spots. Under his nose and near his ear. You then began to shave his cheeks. The blade slid smoothly over Steve’s skin making a soft scratching sound as it sliced through the coarse facial hair. There was such an odd and specific mixture of things at work that blended together to be such a turn-on for you. The blade itself and the way it was used was incredibly sexy. From the thick leather stop that you used to realign the edge. To the shape of the razor, the shine of the blade. No one would argue that the aesthetics weren’t appealing.

The cut of the razor was incredibly sexy too. There was a reason why a straight razor was used as a murder weapon in so many films. It was deadly sharp as well as aesthetically pleasing. When you ran the blade down his skin it cut the hair so close there wasn’t even the shadow of it showing.

The main thing that got to you - the thing that went right to your core - was how he trusted you. You tilted his head back and ran the blade down his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed and his towel tented at his waist. He trusted you. He trusted you to not intentionally hurt him, which was good in itself. Steve had a lot of reasons not to trust people. If you were some kind of sleeper agent you were in the perfect position right now to take out Captain America. It wasn’t just that though. He also trusted in your skill. He knew you weren’t going to accidentally hurt him either. That you handled that razor like an expert. That… that’s what really did it for you. This was something that Steve thought was important and he knew you were the best person to do it. Not only that, but your competence turned him on.

By the time you were running the blade down the last patch of skin, Steve was rock hard and you were dripping for him. You cleaned up the stray areas you might have missed and wiped the little spots of shaving cream from his face. He opened his eyes and looked up at you as you grabbed the aftershave balm. The usual light blue of his eyes was blown out completely. You began to massage the thick, honey-scented balm onto his skin, soothing it. He hummed contentedly and reached up, cradling your jaw as he looked up at you. You smiled down at him and grazed your teeth over your bottom lip. “Feel like you again?” You asked.

“Mmm… nearly,” he said and guided you down to kiss him.

It was tender and loving but there was a heat to it. His tongue teased your lips apart and you flicked yours out to meet it, dancing them together. You moved around him without really breaking the kiss, just repositioning your lips in small increments until you were in front of him, straddling his lap and bracing your hands on his shoulders.

He pulled you down into his lap and ground his erection up into you. You rolled your hips against it. Your panties soaked through with your arousal as the two of you kissed and moved against each other.

Steve pulled back slowly, dragging his teeth over your bottom lip and he looked up into your eyes. “I missed you,” he said in a breathy growl. He picked up the straight razor and flicked it open again.

Your tongue flicked out, brushing over your bottom lip. “I missed you too,” you breathed as he collected the fabric of your dress in his hand. He pulled it out away from your body and then used the razor to cut the fabric right down the middle.

You gasped and your cunt clenched as a shiver ran through you. “Steve,” you said, the sound somewhere between a moan and scolding. “You’ve ruined my dress and my razor.”

He chuckled and carefully put the razor away again. You nuzzled at his neck and ran your hands over the hills and valleys of his muscular form. When the razor was safely in its holster he ran his hands down your back and over your ass. You hummed and kissed him, letting your lips graze over his. He tilted his head and deepened it. It became frantic and hungry and you rutted your hips in his lap wanting nothing more than his cock inside you.

Without any warning, he lifted you and slammed you into the wall. You braced your feet against the cold tiles as his hips rutted into you.

“Please, Steve,” you mewled, your fingers digging into the thick muscles in his shoulders. “Give it to me.”

He reached a hand between you and tore the crotch out of your underwear and with a snap of his hips he was inside of you, his cock stretching you and filling you completely. You adjusted to him quickly. Your bodies used to each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces. He felt like home.

He began to thrust his hips, rolling them with every forward movement, pushing you into the wall and swirling his cock inside you. You kissed hungrily, your head feeling light from the lack of oxygen, and your lips going numb and tingling against his. Your body responded to his. Ached for it. You fell apart with each movement he made.

He broke the kiss and bowed his head. You thrust your chest out and he pulled a nipple into his mouth as he slipped a hand between the two of you and began to rub your clit.

It was too much. A hot current tore straight through your core and all your muscles clenched at once, your fingers clawing at his back. With a loud cry, you threw your head back and came hard. Your body seizing up and clenching around Steve’s cock.

He grunted and picked up his pace, fucking your through your orgasm, dragging it out so that it was all you were. You buried your face in his neck and whimpered as you cunt fluttered and squeezed his shaft, milking him.

He grunted and released inside you, moaning and pushing you hard against the wall. “Fuck,” you gasped, tugging on his hair.

He hummed and pressed his lips against your neck, slowly slipping from within you and setting you back on your feet. You kissed your way down his neck and over his collarbone. “Feel like you now?”

Steve smiled and wrapped his arms around you, holding you closely against him. “Yes. Now I feel like me.”


End file.
